


Temporary Truce

by mynameisnotmac



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apologies, Brotherly Love, Caring Dean, Cuddles, Flu, Fluff, Gen, No Wincest, Sick Sam, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotmac/pseuds/mynameisnotmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the middle of season 9 where Dean is back at the bunker but Sam is still mad at him at they aren't talking.  Cas isn't a very good mediator.  Sam gets sick but Dean doesn't find out until late one night.  Like most sickfics, fluff ensues.  NO WINCEST</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Truce

It was always silent in the bunker lately. Neither of the brothers were talking to each other, so they just kept quiet, skirting around one another, muttering the odd word to Cas now and then, who has no idea what to do about these two brothers.

“Will you please just talk to him Sam?” He would beg every night, but Sam just pushed passed him on his way to bed. 

“There’s nothing to talk about Cas.” And that was all he would say on the matter. 

It hurt Dean, to see him. There was his brother, his little brother, and he was hurting. But there was nothing he could do to help. He hadn’t made eye contact with Sam in a week. He used to be in sync with him, but now everything was dysfunctional. He was losing Sam, and it was killing him.

Dean had become so accustomed to the silence that he bolted awake one night to a faint noise coming from down the hall. He rubbed his face and looked at the clock. 3:34 am. What could someone possibly be doing at 3:34 am? Sighing, he grabbed one of the knives off the wall and padded into the hallway, towards the noise.

He had trouble figuring out what exactly this noise was. It didn’t sound like a robber or a demon. It wasn’t until he saw the bathroom door slightly ajar with the light on that he placed the sound. Retching. Since he highly doubted it was Cas, that only left one other person. Dean waited for silence before quietly tapping on the door.

“Sammy?” He called softly. He didn’t get a response. Dean pushed the door open a little wider and let himself in. His heartstrings were pulled taught at what he saw. 

There was Sam, kneeling beside the toilet, cheek resting against the seat as he tried to catch his breath. He was pale and sweaty, with his hair sticking in all different directions. Dean gave a small look of sympathy as he put down the knife and knelt down beside his baby brother, who now appeared very small, compared to his usually giant stature. He ran a hand over Sam’s forehead, gauging his temperature - which was abnormally high - and did his best to smooth back some of the hair from his face.

Sam’s eyes opened and looked at Dean, confused, and for a moment, comforted, before remembering that the two were at odds right now. His face then went stony, his features hard and unreadable. He lifted his head a bit from the toilet seat and tried to make himself seem less pathetic.

“Dean, what are you doing- aughh” Sam’s features took on a greenish tinge briefly before he threw up what was left in his stomach. With one hand, Dean pulled back Sam’s long, damp, hair, and with the other rubbed soothingly at his back. Once Sam had finished with the contents of his stomach, he began dry heaving. Tears streamed down his face on their own accord and he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Shhhh, it’s ok Sammy, I got you, you’re ok.” Dean whispered as the heaves finally slowed and then came to a stop. He pulled his shaky brother towards him so that his back was resting against his chest. Sam tensed at the contact.

“I’m still mad at you.” He mumbled hoarsely. Dean just wrapped his arms around him and gently started rocking.

“Then how about we call this a temporary truce, ok? You can hate me again later, when you’re feeling up to it.” Sam must of liked the idea. After a few seconds, he relaxed into Dean’s hold, allowing himself to be comforted. Dean moved one hand from the embrace to feel Sam’s forehead again.

“Jeez Sammy, you’re burning up! How long have you been feeling like crap?” Sam gave a half hearted shrug.

“A couple of days maybe.” He said, his speech slurring slightly. He rested his head against Dean’s chest and nestled it under his chin, like he used to when he was a child. That’s how Dean knew just how shitty he must be feeling.

“Why didn’t you tell Cas or me?” Dean knew the answer to that last one, but surely he could’ve told Cas.  
Sam just shrugged again, closing his eyes.

“I’m mad at you and I didn’t want to bother Cas. It probably would’ve freaked him out.” Dean gave a small smile. It probably would have.

“Duly noted.” He saw Sam grimace in pain. “Tell me what hurts Sammy.” Sam gave a small groan before turning slightly and muttering what sounded like ‘everything’ into Dean’s shoulder. Dean let out a small laugh. “I need you to be a bit more specific, ok Sammy?” Sam moved his face away before he spoke so Dean could hear him.

“My head, my throat, my stomach, everything. Just everything.” Dean made a noise of sympathy and impulsively kissed the top of Sam’s head. He hadn’t done that since he was a little kid, but he just seemed so pitiful that he had to try something to offer comfort. Sam didn’t seem to mind. As Dean began to gently untangle himself from their embrace, Sam gave a noise of dislike. “Don’t go,” He mumbled. “you’re warm.” However despite this protest, Dean detached himself from his brother and patted his shoulder.

“I’ll be right here Sammy. I’m just gonna get you some painkillers and some water, and then I’m gonna put you back to bed, ok?” Sam just lay down against the tile and curled up in a ball.

Dean quickly found a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet and then took Sam’s glass from the bathroom counter and filled it with water before kneeling in front of his brother again.

“Sam, I need you to sit up.” Dean said, helping his bother into an almost upright position. “Do you wanna rinse your mouth?” Sam nodded and Dean placed the glass in his hands, helping guide it up to Sam’s lips. He took a small sip before swishing and spitting it into the toilet. Dean then handed him the pills. “Think you can keep these down?” Sam gave an unsure nod, but swallowed the pills anyways. After a few minutes, when they didn’t reappear, Dean helped him up on unsteady feet and they began the slow trek back to Sam’s room.

“Almost there kid.” He said as he pushed back the blankets and lowered Sam onto the bed. The poor guy looked miserable. Dean smoothed back his hair again before gently pushing his shoulders so he was lying down. He tucked him in and made sure he was comfortable before standing up to leave. “Feel better Sammy.” And then he turned around to go. He didn’t get two steps before Sam reached out and grabbed his wrist in a death grip. He knelt by the bed. “What’s wrong Sam?” Sam didn’t say anything at first, just holding on to Dean’s wrist like his life depended on it.

“I don’t hate you, you know.” He said finally. It was mumbled so quietly that Dean almost didn’t catch what he said.

“What?” Sam was on the verge of tears now, whether from exhaustion or emotion, Dean didn’t know. 

“I tried really hard to, I really did, but I can’t. I just can’t. You’re my brother, and I can’t hate you.” Sam was crying now, tears running down his face, sobs wracking his body. 

Dean just crawled into bed beside Sam and wrapped his arms around the quaking form. Sam clung to him and sobbed into his chest while Dean tried to soothe him and Sam let him.

And for a moment, there was no heaven or hell, or angels and demons. No Cain, or Gadreel, or Metatron, or even Cas. There was just Sam, and Dean.


End file.
